


With Our Own Hands

by Melethril



Series: Ingenious Friendships [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Broken Team, Bruce Banner Needs a Hug, Gen, Genius Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Sorry It's Doctor Strange, Stephen Strange Needs a Hug, Team Dynamics, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark actually gets a hug for once, With a potential friendship on the rise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-31 23:50:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8598739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melethril/pseuds/Melethril
Summary: The Infinity War is on the rise, and Dr. Strange meets with a broken team.Or: How Dr. Strange forgets about what is at stake for one selfish moment, and is taught to hope again.





	

Stephen had a headache; not one of those mild, slightly uncomfortable “Why did I forget to drink enough water?” headaches, but the “if setting my head on fire will stop the pain I would be sorely tempted to do it” kind of migraine.

He did not need to wonder about the etiology; one day at the Avengers Tower could do that to you. The tension inside of the building was stifling. Even sacred places practically bursting with magic did not feel as overwhelming as the hostility and mistrust that floated through these halls like a wraith.

Stephen Strange (Doctor if you please… He had spent several years in med school before slaving away as an intern and a resident before he _finally_ acquired the position he had had before his accident. He had _earned_ the title, not stolen it) was not a nice man, or a kind one. He was obsessive, had an enormous ego, and tended to be an asshole towards the few people that cared about him; but then… without being an obsessive egoistical megalomaniac you did not become the kind of surgeon he had been… At the level of complexity he had worked before the accident, even a shred of humility would have crippled him (no pun intended). Ironically, becoming a protector of this realm had not exactly helped his ego. Of course, he had discovered that there were things a lot bigger than he could have ever imagined, but he had also learned that – while there was the potential of failure – he could handle it; and he was pretty damn good at it, too. He knew the drill; it had been in the beginning of his career as a neurosurgeon when he accepted that there was still so much to learn but that he could reach levels others could not even fathom (what was the fun in learning something that you could not excel at?). So, yes, his ego was still intact, thank you very much.

Therefore, putting him into a room with a bunch of superheroes may not have been Thor’s brightest idea, but then the Asgardian had an almost alarmingly good opinion about the human race in general. For a man so knowledgeable, kind and powerful, he was remarkably naïve (which probably had not helped matters with his naturally cynical and much more psychotic brother). Twenty minutes into his arrival at the Tower, the team surrounded by Steve Rogers looked ready to gut the wizard. Captain America himself commanded Hawkeye to remain calm, and when the Scarlet Witch’s hand glowed red, had sharply told her off (oh, Stephen would have loved to step in the ring with her; despite his flaws, Stephen knew you never stopped learning, which was a principle she could not seem to grasp), but the first Avenger’s general mistrust and distrust was obvious to everyone in the room.

The Avengers were so utterly broken it felt like walking barefooted on shards of glass.

After snarky comments had gone back and forth (and Tony Stark had excused himself a few minutes in, practically pulling Dr. Banner with him who had followed with little to no hesitation), Colonel Rhodes (trauma due to fall from extreme height; armor prevented death but the impact shattered L4 to S1 with severe laceration of the spinal cord, rehabilitation unlikely… Who is his surgeon? How the hell does he walk again without any sign of supernatural aid?) shut up everyone by saying sharply, “Out of everyone in this room, I have the right to kick all of your righteous asses, but would not be able to if not for Tony’s help because my spinal cord was ripped apart as a result of your unwillingness to comprise, _Captain_!” Oh, the man was shaking with anger (also, Stark? He was not a surgeon. What did he do?) “By the way, thank you for not bothering to ask how I was doing. I mean, you have time to send Tony a phone and the most bullshit non-apology letter I have ever read in my life, but not the balls to ask if I was recovering. I was an Avenger too, you assholes! But then, I digress, it happens. Here is what is going to happen: you will get your head out of your asses, stop blaming Tony for every bad decision _you_ made and we will all work together nicely because if we don’t, this planet is screwed. You owe me that much.”

He had left the room immediately afterwards but not without leaving what the press had named ‘The Real Avengers’, ‘The Rogue Avengers’, ‘terrorists’ and ‘Team Captain America’ silent and chastised. Steve Rogers had been marginally more polite with Stephen in the aftermath of the Air Force officer’s reprimand, but Stephen did not think too much about that. Here was the thing: Stephen knew that heroes were never what you painted them as. He should know, surgeons were something like heroes (with a God-complex), and they had been around long before the emergence of Captain America. He had been a surgeon, and he was well aware of his own vices (he had them listed both chronologically and by order of importance). So, he had not been surprised or disappointed by Steve Rogers’ general attitude of possessing the moral high-ground (even if he did not), or their allover pettiness. Thor (from what the God of Thunder had told him personally) also harbored a less than stellar past; and Tony Stark proudly presented his flaws for the whole world to witness, probably with the complete awareness of the majority of the population hating him for doing so as well as for having these vices in the first place (and the knowledge that people would hate him even more if he did not display his flaws so openly).

What had surprised him was Tony Stark’s reaction to him and the not-so-merry band of superheroes. Stark had been quiet, had not shaken his hand, had remained quiet throughout most of the discussion except for a few insightful jabs that never failed to bring the room’s entire attention on him. The engineer was brilliant, and his level of intelligence was so far off the charts, it was both fascinating and frightening. King T’Challa could barely keep up (and given that the man had proven his superior intellect and knowledge to Stephen in all areas but the nervous system and magic on more than one occasion, that alone was scary), and the only one hoping to be on par with him, was Dr. Banner (who, due to his general knowledge on physics, its limits and beyond could probably become an expert magical theorist unlike any other in record time), who had been quiet throughout the whole dispute (hoping to keep the Hulk under control, perhaps).

So, when Stephen was in his room and decided to explore the tower on the Astral Plane away from prying eyes, his first destination was Stark’s workshop. For a place practically devoid of magic, Stephen was surprised by how well the place was protected. Most dark magicians would not be able to stand upright inside this room. It seemed like from the page of a stupid mystery novel, but people’s personal sanctuaries could actually _be_ sanctuaries, given the person had the appropriate strength of mind and heart. Stark seemed to have both in abundance as Stephen could hardly break through the Astral Plane to silently observe two of the smartest people on the planet.

At first, they talked about the Infinity Stones, and while Stephen could follow the conversation in the beginning, he had to opt out once they brought in physics, chemistry and some very obscure branches of technology and quantum physics into the equation. It was not just the topic, it was the sheer pace of the conversation; they jumped back and forth in an easy camaraderie of two brains that just _understood_ each other. It reminded him of his comradeship with Christine at their most brilliant moments. What was more striking was how Stark’s hands never stilled for a moment; he was tinkering, commanding his holograms and gesturing simultaneously. In a moment of silence, Dr. Banner suddenly blurted, “I’m sorry I left you to deal with everything after Ultron. I should have stand beside you, not… step aside, letting them blame you, even though it was not your fault. And then I ran away… I’m sorry.”

Stark’s head tilted to the side, “General Ross…”

“No, no, don’t do that, Tony,” Dr. Banner interjected harshly, his eyes green. “The Big Guy is furious, but not with you. He… understood before I did; thought you looked lonely in that interview you gave after… everything broke apart. I was an awful friend.”

Stark looked stricken, quickly stepped forward, but hesitated before he actually hugged him. “I face my failures head-on, you… flee. For good reason, too… If you can’t defuse a bomb, you need to carry it away. I know that, better than most,” smiled the engineer. It looked sorrowful as if he had not smiled for real in far too long. “There’s nothing to forgive. You’re…you know I would forgive you anything; you have to know that. You are the only human being that understands how my mind works. Besides,” he added, “I can count the number of friends I have on one hand, and I would do anything for them.”

“You deserve better than what I gave you,” replied Dr. Banner, his eyes bright and Stephen thought that he really should go back to his room.

“Then give it and forget about the past,” was the stubborn reply, and he briefly hugged the physicist, who pulled him into a tighter hug, as Stark moved to dislodge.

“Told you,” muttered Dr. Banner as he held on and after Stark asked whether he was okay. “You deserve better than what I gave you.”

After that, the conversation went back to the problem at hand, but Stark seemed to be glued to Banner’s side. If Banner was surprised by this change, he did not show it.

“You did not shake hands with Strange.”

Stephen who had nearly fallen asleep in the face of their doubtlessly complex but impossible-to-follow conversation, almost fell from the Astral Plane. Raptly, he listened.

“Pardon?”

“Tony, you touch and prod everyone, and you shake people’s hands when you meet them. It’s what you do. Do you have a problem with him?”

Stark did not speak for almost a minute; he worked on a mind-blowingly complicated circuit board when he finally replied: “I did not want to rub his face in it.”

“You lost me there,” Banner replied, and Stephen wanted to thank the physicist for his confusion.

“I was twelve when I was kidnapped for the first time… Big Guy?” How Stark could remain calm in the face of that growl was a mystery.

“Don’t do that, Tony,” rasped Banner, obviously trying to calm himself, “You can’t… Unless you want to have the Big Guy on a rampage looking for people that are probably in their sixties right now, you should not randomly mention kidnappings; at least not without warning me first.”

Stark smiled ( _Why the hell does he… Focus, Strange!_ ), and continued, “Long story short, I’ve been having a recurring nightmare since then. That is… somebody breaking every single bone in both of my hands. I’m telling you this because I know you’d never hurt me. I’m terrified when people attack my heart, or compress my chest, but if you want to truly render me into a pathetic heap of human spinelessness, just mention you’d take my hands from me.” Stark took a shuddering breath, which mirrored Stephen’s as he tried to regain some measure of control. That struck very close to home.

“You don’t understand that, Bruce, not truly. You are a brain first and everything else comes later. I… explore the worlds with my hands; I create things with my hands; hell, the aids I have built to assist my creations are all based on gesture-dependent holograms. I’m an engineer, Dr. Strange used to be a surgeon. It’s basically the same thing; with the exception that I deal with metal while he used to deal with the fleshy parts. Without my hands, I’m… nobody. No, don’t tell me that I still have my brain! It’s not the same! It’s not. It must feel like drowning on dry land. You understand the feeling of it: one moment and you could never go back to the way things were, right? But you could still use your brain… Imagine, never again experiencing that moment when you figure something out. Imagine that, instead of saving your life and your mind that day, the Other Guy’s creation destroyed your ability to think in the scope of the genius you are; you’d still be a genius and people would tell you to suck it up because you could still do anything but the one thing you could do unlike any other is gone. Dr. Strange is living my nightmare, Bruce. He found something else to dedicate himself to, and I guess it’s the only thing that prevented him from committing suicide. Nevertheless, I am not going to ‘touch and prod’ him when he cannot do the same thing in return.”

Stephen swallowed, but the lump in his throat refused to disappear. He wanted… he did not know what he wanted, but he needed air, he needed… With a gasp he returned to his physical body, his hand tremor as severe as it ever was. He wished he had not pried. He would never be able to look at Stark without remembering what he had said. Every word rang true, and it hurt like it did the first day he had looked at his ruined hands. He was also grateful; he had matured enough to be grateful for the man’s thoughtfulness.

Perhaps, to clear the air, he would ask the man about Colonel Rhodes’ ability to walk. Yes, exactly, that was what he would do next.

Instead, he was back on the Astral Plane, overhearing a conversation he should probably avoid.

“…the sensors bypass the signal interruption caused by the laceration, so it’s a simple matter of bridging the signal in spite of the lesion. It’s not perfected, yet, but the latest models are nanotechnology, so we could implant it in his spine. Of course, it would not have taken me two years if the Cauda equina had not suffered from a contusion in the process, so I had to create about one hundred more sensors than I would have had to if it had only been a lumbar injury. Good thing is, it gave me some ideas on how to work on the peripheral nervous system, which is a pain, I tell you – no pun intended. I’m also working on the sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous system… Which is a good thing, because people are mainly focused on the motor nervous system. Don’t get me started on nociception, that’s a multifaceted mess, I tell you, but I’m working on it.”

“So, let me get this straight: you did not shake his hand, would like to talk to him about the nervous system in general, and about things he might have noticed as a surgeon, so that you can cure or at least help him regain functionality of his hands, but you are not telling him that because you don’t want to remind him of the most traumatic moment of his life and because you are afraid it might not work?”

“Exactly, and this is where you come in…”

Dr. Strange had never exited the Astral Plane less gracefully.

“Ask me anything.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, I watched Dr. Strange, and out everything, the hand injury is what stood out the most (apart from amazing visuals).  
> And I'm still coming to terms with Civil War and was starving for some Tony&Bruce friendship.
> 
> This is what came out of it.


End file.
